Forbidden Love

[Arthur Pendragon]

Everyone knows the love story of Arthur and Guinevère, a tale of forbidden love between a prince and servant. But what if their love was forbidden for other reasons? Arthur while a prince, has never met Guinevère for she does not serve as Lady Morgana's handmaiden. Instead, she is a druid, living among her people while she helps Merlin -- better known to the druids as Emrys -- in what ways she can, mostly to fulfill his destiny in protecting Arthur. Merlin still is Arthur's servant and good friend. Arthur of course, has no knowledge of Merlin's magic or efforts to protect him. He lives as the arrogant prince, yet one who's values and opinions strongly differ from his father. Magic is outlawed and Arthur must follow his father's orders . . . for the most part.

While he respects his father, some things he can just not comply with. When it was known that he was arranged to marry the Princess of Gawant, he rejected the proposal, possibly one of his greatest moments of defiance. His father still claims that his son is engaged to Elena, and for now, Arthur silently lets Uther believe so. He knows that he must marry for the good of the kingdom, but is not just yet prepared to commit his life to a woman he has no feelings for. He would rather live a 'single man' and thus focuses his attentions elsewhere.

As is always is, Morgana is his childhood friend and sister like figure in his life. Her betrayal however has not changed and for a year in the castle walls, pretended to be close to everyone when in actuality, she plotted against Uther and his son. It wasn't until she had possession of the cup of life that she made her grand revelation. Crowning herself queen, Merlin dragged an injured and shocked Arthur out of the city and to the only place he knew he could get help: to the druids.


_{Setting: Camelot
Time of Day: Night time
Timeline: Season 3 finale
What If: Guinevère was a druid and her and Arthur met, not knowing who the other was
Tag: Guinevère}

[Guinevère]

---"I need your help,"
"You have magic, why would you need my help?"
---"He knows he is injured, I can't heal him or he will wonder how."
"What happened?"
---"He is a servant, he was injured while escaping. Can you help me?"
"You know you have to but ask, Emrys."
---" . . . You might not want to call me that."

Guinevère, or Gwen to her friends, had been sitting with the shirtless man for most the night. Emrys had gone to find news of the attack, and if she had to assume . . . try to save his prince. As a druid, she believed that she should not hate the ones in charge, and that forgiveness and understanding were needed with the ones who feared what they did not understand. Yet, she feared them as well. A soul deep sort of fear, for she knew they did not ever question right or wrong and had killed many. Her father included.

The man that Emrys had brought her too was handsome, and had not awaken from his pain induced sleep yet. The herbs that she had given him would help ease the pain enough for him to awaken and heal. In truth, while painful now his injures would be healed enough for him to move easy by the end of the week. She dipped a cloth into the water and lifted it to try to keep cleaning off some of the dried blood.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur wasn't sure what the last thing he remembered was. Part of him hoped it was all just a dream; a horrible nightmare. That he hadn't just woken up to a world where Morgana had turned against them, and sided with one of his enemies. But as his eyes slowly opened to hazy surroundings, he could feel it in his heart. He knew that that it was real. And he felt the pain of her actions all over again. To such a strong degree that he could feel his heart physically ache. And that wasn't the only part of him that was hurting . . . though it was the more dominant of the pain. He closed his eyes for a few moments, before trying to open them again, this time a bit stronger. The first thing he saw was a woman . . . one of a rather simple beauty, which made him realize right away that he was not in the castle. For she was no servant familiar to him. He slightly raised his head, trying to look around and see where he was. In a cave of some sort.

It required too much energy that he lacked to sit up, so he lay back down, not even caring about how this may make him seem weak right now. Because all he could think about was Morgana. "Where am I?" He asked in a hoarse, weak voice. Was he still in Camelot? He wasn't even sure he cared about the answer . . . he just asked it so that he would not feel so disoriented. Though it seemed impossible to focus on anything else apart from his sister of heart -- and now known sister of blood -- and her traitorous actions. Suddenly a surge of panic hit him, though he weakly reacted to it. He raised his head again, his eyes moving around, clearly searching for something -- or someone. "Where's Merlin?" Had something happened to him? He prayed not. And once these questions were answered, he would go to another significant one: who was she?

[Guinevère]

Guinevère noticed him lift his head and she gave him a soft smile, hoping that it was comforting. "Where am I?" She looked around, but did not know the name that most called this place. "A cave a few miles from the city." More then a few really, a day at least, but it was the best she could do as calling it a druid name for the cave would give her away. "Where's Merlin?" Who?

Oh! Yes! Emrys. "He said he would be back. He went for news of the city, and to see what he could learn." And for his prince that he had so much faith in. "I'm Guinevère, but friends call me Gwen. I am a friend of his . . . from a village not far from here." She wondered at his name, "You must be good friend of his. A friend of Merlin's is a friend of mine." She knew she was talking too much, but she could not help it. "Do you work with him in the castle? I mean . . . of course you with him in the castle. He said you did, but . . . I mean . . . do you work with him or just know from from work? . . . . well, like work with him every day, on the same jobs--or do you elsewhere in the castle . . . "

Smiling softly she let out a breath, "Sorry. I guess I am a bit nervous. This close to the fighting and all." Knowing knights were out there, and a battle as close. "Would you like some water?"

[Arthur Pendragon]

She explained that he was a few miles from the city and . . . that gave him little comfort. As did the idea of Merlin returning to the city to see what he could learn. It was dangerous out there, for Morgana had her men all around the forest . . . looking for him no doubt. Her mere presence here with him could very well endanger her life. It seemed he did not have to ask who she was either for she began to explain, introducing herself and then . . . speaking faster than his mind was able to process. She asked if he worked in the castle and he grew slightly confused by this. Did she not know who he was? What the hell did Merlin tell her? He knew it was probably for the best, since the less people who knew that the prince was on the loose, the better. He didn't answer her questions though. He couldn't keep up with them, nor did he have the strength to answer them . . . not just physically, but more emotionally.

She offered some water and he just slightly shook his head, raising it again once more to find the source of his injury. It seemed to be covered with some sort of herb and he could already feel the effect of it. He assumed she was responsible for healing his wound, since Merlin wasn't exactly this good with herbal remedies. "Thank you," he said in a low voice, looking at her so that she would know that despite his low and abrupt tone . . . his words were sincere. He then lay his head back down on the ground of the cave, closing his eyes once more. "You should go." Because should Morgana's men come . . . he didn't want Gwen to suffer their wrath. Enough blood had been spilled because of him. So he hoped she would go back to her village and not be in the company of the the prince. Though apparently, she was not aware of who she was tending to.

[Guinevère]

"Thank you," He said after lifting his head to look down at his injury and she smiled softly, "You're welcome." She hoped he was feeling better, but before she could ask him he spoke again. "You should go." She should? Odd, that had almost sounded as if he was telling her to go rather then asking her if she needed to be somewhere else.

"You cannot even lift you're head yet. I cannot just leave you. Merlin will be back, and when he does then I shall leave you. Until then, I will help take care of his friend." She reached up to brush some of his hair back and rest her fingers there to test his temperature. "You're not as warm as you were. You will better in a few days, back to normal by the week's end." He had not offered his name. "Do you have a name? What do I call you?"

[Arthur Pendragon]

She spoke of how she couldn't just leave him in this state . . . and he wished she would. She didn't deserve to have her life threatened through association. But he lacked the strength to debate. He would just wait for Merlin to return and then tell him why she needed to leave. Because he and Merlin were hunted. Him especially. Arthur almost wanted to send Merlin off with her. His thoughts were distracted when he felt her hand on his forehead, brushing some of his hair back. He almost jumped at her touch, yet found instant comfort in it. Odd, since she was a complete stranger to him. Maybe it was his frame of mind . . his state. She spoke of how his temperature had cooled some, and wondered if he should feel relieved for it. With all that happened, what did it matter if he had a fever.

He did not like the cynicism that took over practically every thought . . . but he couldn't help it. His father was either imprisoned or dead . . . by the woman he had called sister and Uther had called daughter. Once again, he ignored her question, not wanting to offer personal information. Merlin had not told her who he was for a reason, and Arthur was not going to go against that. "Why has Merlin never mentioned you before?" He asked in a low voice. She was taking care of him because he was a friend of Merlin's -- thus suggestion that Gwen and Merlin were extremely good friends. Why had he never made mention of Gwen? He had thought he knew everything about Merlin, even teasing him that he could not hide anything from him. Arthur merely wondered if she and Merlin were closer than friends . . . and while he would not normally care, his mind needing to find something to distract himself with.

[Guinevère]

"Why has Merlin never mentioned you before?" That wasn't his name. Why would he not tell her his name? She watched him for a moment, before his words soaked into her mind. Why had Emrys not spoken of her before? Oh. Her eyes moved down and she looked at her hands on her lap for a moment. She knew the answer--because speaking of her could get her killed. Emrys too. Yet for some reason, it also hurt that her friend could not openly claim to be her friend.

"I . . . I am not sure." She wasn't the best lair in the world and she feared if she tried now it would only make him think her a lair. She forced her eyes to look up at his, which looked blue even in the dark light. "He never spoke of friends to me either. I always thought he did nothing but get bullied around by the prince." She said with a soft laugh because it was a joke. After a moment she spoke again, though this time her words were not a joke. "He called you a friend, and i am grateful he has a friend in the castle. It cannot be easy to be who he is, so far from home and family. Knowing he cares for someone enough to risk everything for--his life--well . . . Thank you."

"Thank you for being my friend's friend."

[Arthur Pendragon]

She explained -- jokingly -- that she thought all Merlin did was get bullied by the prince. By him really, but apparently she didn't know that. And it seemed she was saying it in teasing toward him. Her next words slightly surprised him, though at the same time knew that they shouldn't. He considered Merlin an extremely good friend of his, a brother of heart. But . . . to hear her thanking him for it was something unfamiliar. He was used to being told -- mostly from his father -- how ridiculous his friendship with his servant was. And that Merlin was just a servant. To hear someone actually thanking him and making it sound like a good thing . . . was indeed odd. Though not the least bit unwelcome. It made sense after all, since she and Merlin were good friends.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he told her, knowing that it could be their very friendship that may get Merlin killed. As it had almost done a few times in the past. Then he doubted she or anyone else he was close to, would be thanking him. "Merlin is a good friend," he said, feeling oddly comfortable saying that. His actions often proved how highly he regarded Merlin and how he cared for him as a brother. So letting the words fall from his lips . . . was not something he was used to doing. "How long have you known him for?" Arthur asked, still trying to distract his mind and trying to help pass time until Merlin returned and . . . well, he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do after that. What could he do? Nothing. Because it was impossible to defeat an immortal army.

[Guinevère]

"A few years at least." Since he came here perhaps? Sometime just after that? Guinevère watched him, knowing she needed a name to call him but he seemed reluctant to give her his. It made her wonder why. Had he forgotten?! She had not felt a blow to his head when she checked for other injuries--no bumps nor discolored bits. Yet what if she missed something?!

"I need you to tell me your name." She said softly, "If . . . If you do not remember it, then it's ok. I can help try to remember it." Though he knew Merlin, so surely he knew his own name. "I just need to know that you know it, or if I should give you some herbs to help with any injury to your head . . . and I need something to call you. Merlin was in a hurry, I did not have time to ask him for your name." It wasn't ask if he was the king or prince in hiding! He was a servant, what harm could there in in his name? "If you tell me, I will tell you a secret." Her tone suggested that her mystery was very important and special, though the tactic was one she used to make children take the medicine that tasted horrid to them.

[Arthur Pendragon]

She spoke of the need for him to tell her his name. What need was there? But then she elaborated, as she feared it was from his injury that he was withholding such information. He knew that it should not matter that he lied. After all . . . he would more than likely see her again after this. He also knew that he could not tell her his real name. Deciding it was best not to debate with her and try to convince her that he did know his own identity but did not wish to share it, he gave him, and spoke the first name he could think of -- associated to a servant. "Morris," he answered. A lie. Morris was his former servant before his father had appointed Merlin. Still, it didn't matter. She would know him as Morris only for a little while, until they went their separate ways and never met again.

Still desperately trying to find some distraction, he wondered if she would tell him what her supposed secret was. He felt like a child; needing such form of bribery to coax his name from him -- even though in the end, it wasn't his real one. Still. He supposed his current mood was less than jovial and happy. Had they met under different circumstancs, he may have been less quiet and detached. But right now, he was using what little strength he had to keep the emotion from his face. Just long enough for her to leave so that he could properly be left alone to wallow in his grief.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère watched him while he took a moment to reply "Morris," Morris? She smiled softly, pleased that he actually knew his name and she did not have to worry about his mind, only his body--not that she needed to foucse more on him there. She had not been able to stop looking while he was sleeping. Morris was quite handsome, and he had gained her attentions in a rather new way.

Leaning forward a bit she whispered, "Morris, you have a flower in your hair." Reaching for it, she reviled her secret. It was a flower as blue as his eyes she'd bet. Once the day light arose she would love to see for sure. Yet in these caves it would be hard to see for sure. She tucked the end in his bandage so the blue contrasted with the dried red of the blood. "You should try to sleep for a few more hours. I will wake you when E--Merlin returns . . . I promise."

[Arthur Pendragon]

She leaned toward him, as if to whisper whatever secret she had bribed him with . . . revealing that he had a flower in his hair. He was stunned for only a second, before she pulled it out and showed him. Had everything not been so grim, he would have laughed, or at least made a face at the fact that he had a flower in his hair. But all he could do was stare at it before looking back at her as she tucked in the bandage. He still felt rather surprised that she was so willing to help . . . not out of obligation for who he was -- a prince -- but more because of his position as Merlin's friend. She told him that he should sleep and he slightly shook his head, sitting up again and refusing to let any pain hinder him from doing so. "I'm fine," he answered in a low voice, keeping any harsh bluntness out of it.

He couldn't sleep. He needed to stay guard for . . . she did not exactly know what was after him. He was hunted and he did not wish to lower his guard for a moment. He slid back a bit, so that his back was against the wall of the cave, as was the back of his head. "How far is your village from here?" Would it be possible to make sure she got back safely? Would it only endanger her further if he went with her to ensure such a thing? Apart from the fact that his mind needed a distraction, he was also genuinely curious as to how far from home she was.

[Guinevère]

"I'm fine," He told her, moving to try to sit up. Her hands reached out and hoovered over him for a moment, as if debating on if she could--or should--keep him from moving. When he was settled, she reached for his old shirt and put it behind his head a bit to help give him comfort from the rocks. "I can see you will be the stubborn sort." She teased, "Never doing what the doctor tells you."

"How far is your village from here?" It was a good thing her hands had been busy, and her eyes had not been on his or the surprise she felt would have been evident. "Oh . . . You needed worry if your afraid of the troubles in Camelot catching up here. There are no villages around to attract attention to these caves." It was her way of side stepping his question and answering it at the same time. She hoped it work, for her secret--the real one--could get her and others killed.

[Arthur Pendragon]

She put his old shirt behind his head, clearly concerned for his comfort and . . . well, he felt touched by it. Not only because of the fact that she was doing all this without knowing who he was but also because he was not used to being cared for in this way. Especially by a woman. Forcing his gaze away, he looked down, moving his knees up so that they were propped up as he rested his elbows on them and clasped his hands together. Trying to focus and not let himself dwell in recent events. Or well rather, make it apparent that he was so distraught. She tried to assure him that he should not worry about trouble catching up to them . . . and knew she was mistaken. Because she didn't know the truth about him. That all the men that scoured the woods, were looking for him.

"You came all this way from your village, to help a friend?" He both asked and stated. She had come whatever distance, because Merlin needed her help? Or had she already been close by enough? "Either way, I am grateful and indebted to you." A debt that he would never be able to pay . . . but knew he would forever be obligated to her for saving her life in this way. While Merlin was many things and had various skills, medicine was not one of them. He knew some from Gaius' teachings, but not enough that would have healed him from the wound he had. He knew his current recovery it was due to her.

[Guinevère]

"You came all this way from your village, to help a friend?" He seemed surprised someone would help another. "No, I came to help you." While she had been asked by a friend, she would have come either way had she known. "Either way, I am grateful and indebted to you." Indebted! Sometimes he said things oddly, very fancy as if he was more educated then most--or like now, he spoke of debt . . .

"It's what you do . . . " When you love someone. And she did love Emrys. He was her brother. Had he asked she would have came no matter the miles, had someone been injured she'd had come to help. Either way, she would be here. "People are supposed to help each other. Sometimes we forget. Get too caught up in other things--which farm is more profitable, which kingdom has more gold, who has better children, who has more then another . . . . "

"Simple things like showing kindness, and helping a follow human get forgotten. Merlin might have asked me to come, and I love him like my own brother so I would have come, but even if a stranger had asked . . . I would have come to help. Because somethings are more important then debt. Like love, and compassion."

[Arthur Pendragon]

She corrected him, saying that she came to help him. Once again, he felt oddly touched by the words . . . but remained silent as she continued to speak. Her next explanation caused him to just look at her, as she talked of how kindness and helping people was something seldom focused on and done. There was such a strong innocence about her; an optimism that he had never seen in another. He may have only known her for a few moments, but it was not difficult to tell that much. That it seemed nothing dark had touched her life . . . or well, if it had, then she took it with a positive attitude and derived strength from it. Something that Arthur could not do right now. Ironically, it was usually Morgana who was his voice of reason in that way; telling him that he knew what to do and to do it. Now . . . she was the reason for his heartbreak. Arthur hoped that Gwen's innocence and hope in life, was never corrupted by a dark shadow. And it made him all the more inclined to ensure she got home safely.

"I have not met many who share your attitude," he admitted to her, knowing that he could not speak of too much detail . . . not that he wanted to, for speaking of anything personal was not exactly his strong suit. Not when he had been taught to suppress all emotions for they were weakness. Had he not been told and trained to do this at a young age . . . he would have easily fallen apart, more so than he was now. "The only other person who I have encountered that does, is Merlin. It is no wonder you two are friends." He of course meant that in a good way. Merlin had a wisdom about him that Arthur knew he often teased him otherwise about. But he too shared that similar positive attitude about things. He could see now why Gwen and Merlin were such close friends. They were similar in personality -- or certain aspects of their personality.

[Guinevère]

"I have not met many who share your attitude," "There is a belief that if you show kindness to one person, it will inspire that person to do a kindness to another, then that other to yet another. That someday, perhaps even years from now, that kindness will back back to you." While she did not expect something to come back, she knew that helping others would let them help even more others.

"It is no wonder you two are friends." She laughed softly, smiling brightly at the complement of being close to Merlin. "Yes, we are similar souls. Are you and he not so?" Surely his friends would be like him, or did Emrys have many sorts of friends? "He will do great things one day." Their friend, "I am just glad he has chosen me for a friend."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur wasn't sure he believed that theory. Of inspiring kindness in others. He doubted his actions could ever touch a person's life that way for . . . had it had the power to, then why had Morgana done what she did? He'd spent a lifetime trying to protect her to the best of her ability, and treating her like nothing less than a sister to him. If his actions were capable of inspiring other people to be kind . . . then none of this would have happened. But he just remained silent on the matter. If it was what she believed, he would say nothing to tarnish that optimistic belief. It only further showed her positive attitude, where as Arthur was finding it difficult to find the light in this time of darkness . . . when all hope seemed completely lost.

She then laughed as she confirmed that her and Merlin were similar, questioning if Arthur and Merlin were too. "We're not that similar," he told her, knowing they were both completely different, yet got along quite well despite those differences. In fact, that could be part of the reason they were such good friends. "I'm sure the feeling is mutual on his part," he told her, when she said that she felt lucky Merlin had picked her to be friends with. An odd thought, almost as odd as the thought of him doing great things . . . depending on what she meant by great. He knew that Merlin was very capable, and wasn't about to minimize that.

[Guinevère]

He did not speak of himself very often, and seemed to be keeping the conversation on her and Merlin rather then him. Most people would speak of themselves, either because it was all they cared for or because they were just trying to introduce themselves and be open. Not him. She did not think he was just trying to know her, but she also knew that Morris had nothing to hide. Well, perhaps he did.

She had things to hide. Everyone had something they could not share with another. Perhaps he was also just worried for his friends. Yes, that was it. He was worried. "You should drink some water. Help keep up your strength. You will need it to find your friends, and reclaim you home or land. . . . I hope it was not damaged too much in the attacks on the city. Did you have any family still there?" A mother or father, or even siblings. A wife? Surely a man like him had a wife.